


Meet Me Under The Wisteria Tree

by Stelera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Bathing, But They Still Laugh, Cancer, Death, Discussions Of The Past, Drinking, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Jesse Has A Bad Sense Of Humor, Lung Cancer, M/M, Massage, McHanzo - Freeform, Olderwatch, Post-Canon, Ridiculous Gay Old Men Doting On Each Other, Ridiculous Gay Old Men Who Are Still Really Really In Love, Smoking, So Does Hanzo, and the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stelera/pseuds/Stelera
Summary: Almost forty years after the initial recall of Overwatch a new generation of heroes has stepped up, giving many of the original operatives the chance to retire and make lives for themselves outside of the dangers of mercenary work. While their work for Overwatch brought them together, retirement didn't separate Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada; only one force left in the world could do that. As Jesse's bad  habits are slowly catching up to him, the two return to Hanamura to take in the sights and make the most of the time they have.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was co-authored by Tumblr user watchnotover - http://watchnotover.tumblr.com/  
> And edited by Tumblr user Cheshireswoon - http://cheshireswoon.tumblr.com/
> 
> Translations, and explanations for non-English-based references have been included. Hover over text for translation. We apologize to readers accessing this work on mobile if the hover feature doesn't work for them.
> 
> This is a sad story. But it is also a happy story, and a love story. Stay strong. We hope it means as much to you as it does to us.

Jesse died first.

He hid it for a few months but he'd been coughing up blood and he knew exactly what that meant. When Hanzo found out he was justifiably angry and demanded they see an oncologist. Jesse wasn't interested in that.

“No, Hanzo I ain't gonna die in a hospital too weak to get out of bed with a steady drip of poison flowing into my veins.”

That wasn't how he wanted to go.

Hanzo looked at him so helplessly. There was this mix of pain, worry, and loss already making the corners of his eyes crinkle and his brows droop. He cupped Jesse's cheeks so carefully. He wouldn't cry now, but there was that misty look.

“Then... We have a lot to work on, Jesse.” Just trying to accept what had come of them. Hanzo got what was left of the recalled Overwatch to video chat with Jesse and make sure the kids understood what was going on. Then they started work on their bucket list, wondering how so many items had slipped away because they were distracted, and only now realized how old they'd become.

Jesse had kept smoking; Hanzo tried to get him on everything from patches, to pills, to nicotine injections, but Jesse always complained about missing the flavor and would inevitably come by a cigar or two all on his own – stubborn bastard. And one day when they had crossed off just about everything on their bucket list they could think of Jesse took Hanzo by the hand and squeezed it. It was so strong; Hanzo knew if they'd gone to an oncologist Jesse would never have had the strength to hold his hand like that. Jesse smiled up at him. “I want to go home, Hanzo... back to Hanamura. I want to see the town you grew up in and I want to stay someplace with a hot spring where I can sit in the water with you and drink sake and admire the trees and the flowers. That's where I wanna go, partner.”

“You silly, fool...” It didn't have any heat to it as he squeezed Jesse's hand back and leaned up to kiss him soft and sweet. Hanzo rented out a room at an onsen for them. He made sure that he could see the town he grew up in and the beauty that covered the darkness that lurked there. He would bathe Jesse with pride and make sure to give him all the pomp and circumstance that goes with the annual festivals.

Gradually Jesse got more and more comfortable with the concept of his own death, but Hanzo would never be comfortable with it. And one night when they were out in the hot spring, sharing a bottle of warm sake and cuddling in the warm water Jesse brought up where he wanted to be buried. “I don't want a big fancy hole in the ground er' nothing. Put my ashes in a pickle jar for all I care, just put me down someplace nice you'd like to come visit me at. A nice shady tree with a bench nearby. I won't be mad if you don't come around all that often. Shit, I'll be dead it's not like I'll be mad at all. But I know you, I know the way you mourned Genji, I figure you'll pay me a visit or two. Just make sure it's someplace nice. Someplace that looks pretty in the spring time.”

Hanzo swatted him in the chest, looking offended, “Like I will put you in a pickle jar! Puh!” He downed his sake and sunk a little lower into the water. “I would visit you often... without a bench or shade.” He looked up at Jesse with a sigh and leaned against him. “Maybe I'll rest you here... move back to these roots.” He looked so uncomfortable talking about it but he knew it must be done. “Or search for somewhere pleasant in the States.” He cleared his throat. “But you are not dead yet, Jess.”

“Wherever it is you think is best, partner. Just make sure it's someplace comfortable for you. I don't need you punishing yourself over me the way you did with Genji. You're an old fart with me now, you deserve a nice bench to sit on... maybe under a wisteria tree, nice shady pergola overhead, and the way the flowers smell in bloom. Reminds me of yer aftershave.” He smiled and kissed Hanzo's neck, giving him this long, apologetic look before resting his head on Hanzo's shoulder. “I'm sorry I done this to you, Hanzo. I shoulda quit smoking when I was young and had the chance. I didn't think I'd be hurtin' nobody but myself.”

Hanzo reached to cup his cheek, petting the greyed scruff and resting his head gently against his. “Silence you sentimental, old fool. We are both aging. One of us would have been in this situation.” He just sighed softly and looked out with this vacant expression to his eyes. “I've been lucky that we even crossed trails, cowboy.” And there was a warm smile as he kissed his crown gently. Pleased he was able to make such a tease still. He sat silently for a moment to enjoy their closeness. “Enjoy the here and now. Enjoy us. Didn't you used to tell me to do so?” He tugged Jesse's earlobe playfully, trying to lighten the mood in his weird ways.

“I sure did... wouldn't be here if I wasn't the type to live in the moment.” He sighed, leaning on Hanzo a little bit more and rubbing the bridge of his nose affectionately along the ridge of his bristly jaw. “Just wishin' I'd have had a few more moments with you. Dunno how many I've got left, but you've made these past few months so sweet, Hanzo, so perfect. Ain't nobody I'd rather spend a moment with than-” He interrupted the though with a coughing fit, clenching up all over and covering his mouth until finally it subsided, pulling his hand away and trying to hide the blood in his palm from Hanzo. “Ain't nobody I'd rather spend a moment with than you, partner...”

Hanzo rubbed his back soothingly through the fit and tucked him back against him until it subsided, smoothing his hair in earnest and pressing his lips against his temple. “I'm just proud we've made it here.” He tipped Jesse's head up just a bit so they were looking at each other, Hanzo quietly wiping a speck of blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “Te amo. Koishiteru. I love you, Jesse.” His voice was so soft but strong in his declaration. He wanted to make sure he knew. None of that guessing.

Tears started welling up in Jesse's eyes and rolled down his cheeks, cupping his hand behind Hanzo's and holding it against his cheek. “Come on now, no need to go saying all that powerful stuff just yet, you'll break an old man's heart that way.” He laced his fingers with Hanzo's and squeezed, closing his eyes as more tears rolled down his cheeks. “I love you too. So much. Thank you so much for loving me like you do... for being my husband... you make me the happiest man alive, Hanzo, don't you ever fucking forget that, yuh hear?”

“I will never forget just as I could never forget you, the light of my life.” It was Hanzo's turn to kiss away his husband's tears and calm him with whispered 'I love yous.' “There is never thanks needed when it comes to our love, you foolish man.” He kissed the tip of his nose and moved down to the curve of his lips. “Perhaps we should get out of the heat. I think it might be getting to you.” And that wasn't a tear slipping down his cheeks as he squeezed McCree's hand and pulled it to his lips to kiss each knuckle, it was just water from the hot spring.

“You think so, darlin'?” Jesse gave him a weak smile; oh he couldn't stand it when Hanzo got all misty-eyed too, he sniffled and slipped his hand free of Hanzo's hold, reaching for the tie holding his hair up and fumbling it with his one hand, having taken his prosthesis off to get in the water. Eventually he slid the tie down past the ends of Hanzo's hair, setting his long silver locks free. “I dunno, I kinda like it in here. There's a cute boy bein' sweet on me and giving me kisses and such. How'd you expect a guy to walk away from that?” He gave Hanzo an almost pleading look as he slipped his fingers through his silken tresses, cupping his hand behind Hanzo's head and leaning in to kiss his lips, slow and doting.

“Perhaps.” Hanzo couldn't help the amused chuckle from bubbling into their kiss. “But how could I say no to such a look? It's as if I've kicked a puppy.” He'd picked up a few of Jesse's idioms over the years, reveling in the fact that he'd mastered their use and meanings. He sealed their lips together again, resting his hands carefully on Jesse's broad shoulders so that he wouldn't add more weight. He broke their union again, keeping their foreheads pressed close. “I suppose we can stay longer. Not too much though. It's not like this boy is going to stop doting on you. I had other plans for you.” He stole one more quick peck for good measure, eyes closing as he leaned into the warm hand at his nape and releasing a sigh through his nose.

“I won't make you stay if you've got somewhere to be, Mr. Shimada.” He kissed Hanzo's cheek and smiled softly. “If I was 20 years younger I'd carry you back inside, but something tells me you won't let me do that today, huh?” Jesse's eyes were a little sad, but it was safer that way. The last thing he wanted was to have another coughing fit while he was trying to carry Hanzo. He stood on the submerged ledge and lifted himself out of the water, sitting on the lip of the spring and petting his hand over Hanzo's head before rising to his feet. “Be back in a second with your legs, darlin'.” He wasn't gone long, but Hanzo could hear the coughing from over by the door as Jesse gathered up his prosthetics. Without his left arm there wasn't any disguising the smear of red in the crook of his elbow as he returned to the edge of the spring, setting down the prosthetics and offering his hand to Hanzo.

“Mr. Shimada-McCree to you.” Hanzo huffed and crossed his arms in mock annoyance before gripping the edge of the hot spring to stabilize himself. “Thank you, anata.” Hanzo's voice was stressed sweet at the end, even as he smoothed back his ruffled locks, but he barely hid his flinch at Jesse's cough. They'd been getting worse, closer together and more violent in recent weeks, making dread curl deep in his stomach. “It's just that I'm pruning and we've been in for more than thirty minutes. We can come back in after we cool down.” Dark eyes turned to the offered hand, trying to avoid the splotch of blood for now as he maneuvered himself to the ledge, and took it with a mumbled “thank you” and a soft chuckle. “And with the walk we had today I thought I would treat you to a massage.” His stub caught the lip of the basin and got him up and over with the tug from McCree. “A little more pampering if you will.” He nabbed his cloth to dry the connections before slipping them together with a soft hiss from between his teeth.

“You don't gotta do nothin' for me, but I know by now ain't no sense in arguing with you.” Jesse's eyes softened as he waited patiently for Hanzo to finish reattaching his legs before offering his hand again and helping him up. He spent a long while meeting Hanzo's eyes with his own, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind Hanzo's ear with the tip of his finger, feeling an odd mixture of longing and sorrow, wishing he had more time to spend with Hanzo, and knowing his husband was strong and healthy and still had many years ahead of him... years Jesse wouldn't be there to share with him. “You're gonna spoil me rotten keeping on like you do though. At least let me return the favor. All that walking's gotta make your knees tired too, don't it?”

Hanzo was almost afraid to allow his eyes to flutter closed at the gentle touch, he wanted to remember everything tonight. “It does. Scaling walls are catching up with me.” He laughed softly and took his hand with a firm grasp to lead him back up the steps with a slight wobble. “I'll allow the return only after we've you taken care of you.” The smile was still on his lips, trying to shake the encroaching darkness of Jesse's mortality. It was interesting how he was thinking of every somber line of poetry he'd studied back in college. Then it hadn't meant anything, the descriptions of a loved one's death, looming metaphors, and personifications a dull challenge to keep perfect grades, but now they haunted him. Tolling bells and ticking clocks. “Jesse, my only request is that you allow me to have a viewing for our remaining friends. Before your cremation.” He swallowed thickly and paused sliding back the shoji. It was blunt, but he wanted to make sure he understood all of his husband's requests.

“Don't make no difference to me, darlin',” Jesse squeezed his hand as he let Hanzo lead him back inside, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the empty space beside him. “If they wanna see a withered old man like me then I ain't gonna complain about it. Just make sure it ain't a sad affair. I don't wanna be remembered by how I died, I wanna be remembered by how I lived.” His expression was somber but serious as he gestured with his hand and the stump of his left arm. “I want there to be lots of food, a big dinner like a pot luck where everybody brings something and everybody shares. I want there to be music too and I want folks to sit around and tell stories and jokes and I want folks to have fun like I ain't even gone. I just don't want it to be all teary eyes, black dresses, and white flowers, got it? Nobody wears black. No white flowers. And no crying if y'all can help it.”

Hanzo didn't come to the bed immediately, choosing instead to pause in the center of the room and watch Jesse. A moment passed and he slipped into the bathroom, rummaging to find the lotion he'd packed away, a damp cloth, and hand towel. “Well, if I play country, I can't guarantee dry eyes at the viewing.” His lilt was playful as he returned as quickly as he could to the bed, perching beside him. “That'll get anyone to tears. However, I'll sneak a few in. Make sure your bouquet is full of shades of blue, purples, and splashes of orange. Some yellows and greens ringing the bottom. I'll hide a trunk of ridiculous outfits if they come in black. So you may look down at the group and get a chuckle of your own.” He reached out and took his elbow gently, guiding it close before wiping it clean of blood. “Angela is banned from pot luck unless she's buying it from somewhere else.” It was soothing to him, talking the plan through. He started warming the lotion between his thighs after the damp rag was tossed to the side, towel taking its place.

“Still sore about the polenta mishap, I see.” Jesse smiled fondly remembering the incident where Angela, overly enthusiastic about trying out a Swiss dish on her captive audience at Overwatch, had endeavored to make a polenta, and ended up with what was essentially grits. Jesse had been the only one not to complain, though it could have used a bit more cheese. He closed his eyes as Hanzo dried him off, leaning forward as Hanzo passed the towel along his back, and leaning back as Hanzo dried his legs. “Only wish Ana could have come. She made better kofta than anyone. I know Fareeha tries, but it just ain't the same.” He mused, not really looking anywhere in particular as he thought of the only real mother figure he'd had since joining up with the Deadlocks. It didn't seem like it had been four years since they'd all gathered together to put her in the ground too. It had been a long and somber affair, senior members of Overwatch giving eulogies to her memory, the wake, the burial, the memorial service, the vigil, everyone teary-eyed and bereaved. It had been a good homage to her memory, but it wasn't the kind of thing he was interested in himself. He didn't want to give his friends and former colleagues another reason to grieve. He wanted to give them a reason to celebrate.

Hanzo mumbled under his breath about how he may have had to shave his tongue after that meal because the taste would just not leave him. Eugh. That texture was something all on its own. How on Earth McCree had been able to down the mess on his plate was beyond him. The towel paused just at Jesse's crown, a deep sigh leaving him at the mention of Ana. She'd become like a mother-in-law to him: helping him cook for Jesse, telling him stories from when he was still a green horn, and ,with enough time, opening the connection with her daughter. They'd felt like a strange disjointed family but better than what he'd had back in Hanamura. He grimaced at Genji's severance and got back to work on gently massaging the towel through silvering strands. They'd moved past that long ago. “You know Ana would have been livid at putting her son in the earth before herself. It's a parent's wish to go before their children. Though... I feel that when the time comes and she sees you again she's going to be twisting your ear.” Hanzo huffed out a chuckle and leaned forward to press a kiss to Jesse's lips, short and sweet before sitting back. “Thank you for indulging this... less than happy discussion.” He smoothed the towel over his husband's tanned cheeks, thumbing some of the wrinkles that etched his features.

“It don't bother me none.” It wasn't entirely true; there were still many aspects of death that made him afraid. When he was younger death seemed like an inevitable thing that there was nothing he could do to stop so there wasn't any point in fearing it. Death was a bullet, or an explosion, or a collapsing building. It was fast and unpredictable and would come and go before he realized. There wasn't any sense in fearing death because it wasn't anything you could see coming or do anything to avoid. But death wasn't quick like a bullet anymore, it was slow and stalking, clearly visible, breathing down the back of his neck, toying with him like a predator after wounded prey. Death was still just as unpredictable. He'd never seen an oncologist like Hanzo had wanted, so there was still a little mystery to it, but the mystery became clearer and clearer with every coughing fit and bloody handkerchief.

“You think there is an after, sweetheart? You think when you die, you hang around someplace with a bunch of other dead folks reminiscing about the times when you were alive?” He glanced over his shoulder at Hanzo, brow furrowing, unsure about where he stood on the concept of an afterlife or a heaven or a hell or any other religious interpretation of what happens when you die. In spite of his Roman Catholic upbringing, after years and years of work for the Deadlocks, for Blackwatch, and even Overwatch, he had decided he didn't want to believe in a place after, because if there was a heaven and a hell, someone who had killed as many good and innocent people as he had surely wasn't going to the nicer of the two. He liked to think that the people that he'd protected as a member of Overwatch had changed his character, redeemed him in some way, but he wasn't willing to bet an eternity on it.

Hanzo watched Jesse for a long moment, weighing the emotions flickering through tired eyes. He didn't readily subscribe to any religions. Being raised in a Shinto family with roots of Buddhism woven in gave him a bare minimum to go on for the afterlife besides the rituals of remembrance. They focused on the descendants honoring the past. “I believe in an afterlife. Of sorts.” He finished toweling him off promptly and moved on to the warmer lotion. His slicked fingers tackling the scarred shoulder blades first with lotion and then digging into knots that bunched muscle.

“I was raised with the belief that the spirit is always among us. It is only leaving the physical form behind to live on without pain or suffering. To watch over their descendants to ensure their safety and longevity of their lives.” The teachings were coming back slowly, filtering through a mind that was still sharp but noticeably lacking the spark of memory. “I was taught that when we die we will be forced to cross a river but our trial will each be different. Good souls will be allowed to walk the bridge provided to safety. Normal souls will have to step across on stones. And those who lived on a darker side will have to fight through a raging river filled with their demons. However, we all eventually reach the other side and may finally rest. Coming to visit the corporeal plane when our descendants light incense and offer us small horses of cucumbers and return on oxen made of eggplants.” He smiled fondly at the festivals and the shrine room of their ancestors. How they prayed for their guidance and protection, even celebrated on certain days. Death to him held nothing more than moving on from this body he'd mangled. It scared him, of course everyone feared death, but he wasn't truly afraid. He was more concerned with the loss of companionship. Of warm smiles and ridiculous greetings. Gentle hands that turned deadly when threats arose. Of the physical Jesse McCree and the sudden cessation of his presence beside him instead of some prickling at his nape.

“Makes sense,” Jesse mumbled, eyes falling shut as he felt warm hands grip tightly at the knots in his shoulders, pressing down on the stubborn muscles and working them loose. “Like how the dragons work, right?” He stole another glance over his shoulder at Hanzo, his face was taut with concentration as he pressed his thumbs into Jesse's back, easing the tension and drawing an appreciative groan from his husband's chest. It was nice to have Hanzo's palms on his back, a gentle reminder that his devotion was deep and strong. Jesse knew he wasn't the same man physically as he was twenty years ago. He wasn't even the same man he was six months ago. The pain in his lungs took its toll slowly at first, then much more quickly. He was tired and sluggish and some of his muscle mass had dried up like he'd spent half a year bed-ridden. He didn't like it, but he liked what he'd been able to do with that six months he'd spent as far away from a hospital bed as he could get. He loved Hanzo very much, and sometimes it broke his heart how much Hanzo loved him back.

At their mention, the lazy beasts stirred below their seals, making the hair on his arm stand on end with their energy that he was sure was seeping into Jesse's back. “Mhmm.” His eyes flickered to Jesse's before focusing back to the peek of neck showing between locks. “They reside on that plane of existence. Perhaps they'll allow you to ride them. Better than any horse.” A snort bubbled from him at the thought of his husband buried in the dragon's mane riding them across the waters and through the skies. Maybe the dragons would bless him with that peace of mind. A safety for Jesse's soul.

The groan brought him back to their conversation and had him working on the knob of spine just at the base of his neck. “What do you say we go to a cherry blossom viewing tomorrow? The festival shouldn't be too full now that it's winding down. Get taiyaki to mess with your sweet tooth.” The topic needed to shift a little. Add a little light to the darkness that he could swear lurked in the corners of room.

“That sounds lovely, darlin',” Jesse smiled, eyes wrinkling at the corners and head hanging forward as he let Hanzo work the muscles of his neck with his thumbs. It had taken him years to develop a taste for Hanzo's version of sweets. Jesse was a red-blooded American – meaning he was an avid drinker of sweet tea and eater of Little Debbie's snack cakes – so it took him a while to get accustomed to desserts that were sweetened mostly with rice and bean paste rather than sugar. “You can get me one of those sticky little pink things wrapped in a cherry leaf, and I'll try not to embarrass you in front of the vendor again.” It had been a week or two ago that they'd gone for a walk and Jesse had tried to strike up a conversation with a street vendor which had ended in Hanzo having to apologize for an apparently rather rude comment regarding the man's daughter Jesse had not intended to say.

Hanzo tried not to laugh, he really did, but the sound came unbidden from his lips as his forehead came to rest between slacked shoulders blades. “I honestly thought he was going to get the broom on you.” Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, a quick peck pressed against warming skin. At the time he was absolutely mortified by the train wreck his husband had instigated, but he now thought it silly and a little romantic hearing the Japanese roughed out by him. “I'll be sure to get you a few if you'd like.” He got back to work after the needed break – and after he contained his giggles – moving down his arm that was stopped short above the elbow. He applied more lotion, more gentle with the scarring here but still firm enough to ease aches. “Maybe we'll send off a lantern as well...”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to take this old man on a romantic date.” Jesse smiled, lifting his arm slightly to give Hanzo a better angle to rub the old injury between his palms. The scars had mostly faded, but refused to leave even fifty years later; ugly tracks of stitches leftover after the amputation having faded into ridges through his skin coming to a head where his arm ended. Sometimes his limb ached with the memory of the saw teeth cutting through bone, but it all melted away in Hanzo's palms. “You better do it right and hold my hand and kiss me under the fireworks.” He gave his lover a grateful smile before closing his eyes and indulging in the tranquility of the thought.

“So what if I am?” He sounded almost offended, but it carried no heat as he shifted closer. A blush burned on his cheeks at how much he liked the idea of such a juvenile act. Nothing mattering except for them underneath the sky full of colors. “I'll get you an uchiwa to tuck in your belt as well. Complete the whole feel to it.” The flutter in his stomach moved to his chest, making even his ears burn. An old man feeling like this was simply ridiculous, but there he was feeling smitten with his husband all over again. “After we can rest under the trees and I'll feed you dango, if you'll want it that is.” He couldn't help but feel eager and he had to remind himself to slow his hands and ease their grip. “Sorry...”

Jesse grunted as Hanzo's hands squeezed his shoulders a little too tight, but sighed when the grip eased up. “Pulling out all the stops I see,” he chuckled. “What, you think I'll die tomorrow at the stroke of midnight? My lung'll finally turn into a pumpkin and I'll leave you holding the glass slipper?” He tried to laugh at the off-color joke, but it turned into a cough. He grabbed the washcloth and managed to cough into that since it was already stained with his blood. He winced through the pain, tensing up under Hanzo's hands as he rode out the fit. When finally the wheezing died down, he cleared his throat and wiped his mouth. “Alright you've made your point, better get while the gettin's still good.”

Hanzo's lips set in a grim line as he rubbed at his love's back, holding his breath subconsciously until the attack passed. He wanted to twist his ear but refrained by the way there was a slight tremor in Jesse's breaths. “I had meant this in being like young lovers again. The thought of kissing under the fireworks like some new couple.” His voice was soft as he moved to massage his sides, unsure if he should after the way they'd heaved. “Not because I worry of your death...” Though he did every night. He feigned sleep, staying awake to listen to his fool's breaths. Counted them, almost obsessively and times, with his own. Made sure he didn't drown in his own blood as he slept. It made him hide his face against Jesse's back again. “I do not find it humorous.”

“Hanzo...” Jesse turned, setting the bloody rag down and shifting his weight on his hip, putting a knee up on the bed so he could face his husband. “I'm sorry...” His arm wrapped around Hanzo, looping behind his waist while what remained of his left rested against Hanzo's shoulder. “I didn't mean... I only wanted to make light of it...” He dipped his head, pressing the bridge of his nose into Hanzo's shoulder so he wouldn't have to see the tears threatening to escape from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. “I won't joke like that again. Promise. Just... please take me out tomorrow... I want to see the festival with you, and behave like young lovers again.”

His brows furrowed at the apology. “You foolish old man.” Hanzo kept a hold of his sides, grip barely steady against giving flesh. “Don't make it sound like we have to... Just-” He sighed heavily in frustration at his inability to find the adequate words to describe the feeling. “I know, but I don't want you to think I was ushering death to your side. The idea made me feel young again and- Don't apologize, Jesse... It's okay.” The room seemed to draw in closer to them, the light dim in the background. “Please. Don't be upset.” He didn't mean to take such a hushed pleading tone, but it made a home there now along with the tiredness from age. He wrapped his arms around the softened waist, rubbing at his back with a splayed hand.

With a soft sniff, Jesse reached with his hand behind Hanzo's back, wiping his own tears away before they had a chance to fall on Hanzo's skin. “Sorry,” he mumbled, knowing Hanzo didn't want to hear any more apologies from him, but he couldn't help it. “I just don't want to leave you yet... I don't know when it's gonna happen, and it makes me scared, Hanzo, because I know I'm gonna leave you alone and it's all my own damn fault.” Soon his hand couldn't keep up with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks and he abandoned the prospect of keeping them at bay in favor of gripping Hanzo's back tight and holding him close as he could. “I just wanted to laugh it off and not think about it... I'm sorry I'm doing this to you, Hanzo. You never asked for any of this.” He closed his eyes, resting his furrowed brow against Hanzo's shoulder and sniffling again. This was bad; he never let it get the best of him like this but it was all cascading out of control now and he couldn't stop it. “Please just take me on dates to places I've never been, show me things and hold my hand and tell me you love this foolish old man.”

“I don't want you to leave yet either, Jesse... But please don't feel guilty for the foul hand life has dealt.” He tucked Jesse's head against him, petting his hair and gently rocking him. The silence was brief, punctuated with his husband's sharp breaths and sobs before Hanzo spoke again. “I accepted the honor to be your husband. To have in sickness and in health, for better or worse. I am not a man who steps into such a contract so lightly. I wanted all of you and to take on anything that happened to us.” He paused taking a deep breath in, “I love you. Even when... when it comes to pass I will still love you and never curse your name.” He pressed a tired kiss against his shoulder. “So until then, I will take you on ridiculous dates and kiss you at inappropriate times and tell you with all of my being that I love you. Not because you ask it of me, but because I need to. To remind you.” His hold tightened, drawing his husband closer to his body but leaving a safe enough space for Jesse to still breathe comfortably. Hanzo felt raw. Flayed open. He'd learned McCree needed validation of their love with sonnets and poems along with the actions. “Besides, I don't think the children will allow me peace. They call often enough as it is.” He nuzzled against the quaking skin, shivering at the warm tears that trailed down his back.

Hanzo's words shook Jesse to his very core and he came undone in his husband's arms. Hearing that confession – that reaffirmation in stunning prose of the vows Hanzo had taken so many years ago – he felt as if he could hemorrhage from his heart and die on the spot happy with the outcome. He shivered and collapsed against Hanzo's chest, the unexpected weight toppling him backwards until Jesse was laying on top of him, naked and sobbing and grinning like a lunatic. He wheezed this awful sounding laugh like a choke through nasally blubbering. For a moment Hanzo was afraid he was going to get interrupted by another bout of coughing, but he cleared his throat and took a long breath, regaining control of all of his faculties save for the stupid grin on his face. “You promise?” He worked his right hand out from under Hanzo, wiggling his fingers to catch the gold band in the light. Normally it would have been on the left hand, but for Jesse McCree an exception had been made. He spread his fingers invitingly, hoping Hanzo would take the hint.

Hanzo gathered his breath back, holding onto Jesse like his life depended on it. Not expecting the sudden shift. “Are you-” He blinks owlishly at the smile on his love's face, it wasn't what he was expecting to see with him crying like that and it still worried him but not as much as the threat of coughing. The smile was infectious and bloomed a cautious one on Hanzo's features. The happiness clouding the sorrow was a small blessing and he untangled his hands so that his matching band was visible. “I promise. Even beyond the after life I'll love you and never curse you. When I catch up to you, you better hold on to your hat.” He preened a bit at the use of one of his husband's wacky sayings and twined their fingers, making the metal click and rub as he squeezed the roughed hands together. “Jesse,” He cupped his cheek with his free hand and stole a messy kiss. “I love you.”

“Hooooow-dy!” Jesse drawled, dipping his head and wishing he had his hat on if only to cover up the pink rushing up his neck into his face. “Those are my favorite words to hear from you, darlin'.” He looked up at Hanzo wish a suddenly very sheepish expression, as color rose in his cheeks like a love-struck teenager. “Don't be in too big a hurry to catch up though, alright? It ain't a race nobody can win, and if you try, I'm gonna be awfully cross about it when yuh do.” He bowed his head forward, lips finding the side of Hanzo's neck, the thick grey bristles of his beard brushing against everything from his jaw to his clavicle. He chuckled into the crook of Hanzo's neck, mumbling against the warm skin with a broad smile. “I love you too, Hanzo.”

Hanzo tipped his chin up just so he could enjoy more of Jesse's contact, practically purring at the hot breath and warm lips against the pale column of his throat. For a brief moment, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut to soak it all in, the blush staining his cheeks and down his neck. The voice that made his heart flutter and stomach flip. The tears that'd dried canyons on the apples of his cheeks. The heartfelt return of love's call. For this short reprieve he could pretend that nothing was wrong.

Several moments passed before Hanzo breathed out a relaxed sigh through his nose. He squeezed Jesse's hand again, maneuvering it up to his lips with the least awkward angle to kiss the cool metal of their rings. “I won't race to get there. When my time comes, it will come. Until then, you'll just have to enjoy the company of another.” Hanzo tilted his head to whisper in Jesse's ear, his smile curling deviously. “I'm truly grateful my aim was true.”

“How's that, sweetheart?” Jesse hummed, batting his eyes and giving Hanzo a broad, doting smile as he pulled their hands, pressing Hanzo's palm to his sternum. “Cupid's arrow met its mark what... almost forty years ago?” The smile broke into a wide grin, his cheeks folding along deep laugh lines and eyes wrinkling at the corners as he chuckled. Hanzo could feel the way the breath rattled in his chest when he laughed like something was loose and caught in the empty space. “Half a lifetime with you and it still ain't enough. I was already an old man by the time Overwatch brought us together.” He took as deep a breath as he could manage and closed his eyes as Hanzo's fingers slipped through the coarse hair on his chest. “Listen to me reminiscing like an old fool.”

“Thirty-eight.” Hanzo corrected with a fond smile, smoothing down the white coarse hairs before plucking one just to get his goat. “And if you were an old man then, what did that make me? Ancient? I'm a year older than you, Anata.” The fire that smile lit in his soul made the worry curl into ashes, even though the evidence of it worsening were there. He settled his palm over Jesse's heart and lingered there, counting the beats and silently praying to any deity who'd care to listen that he'd be safe.

“We're both ancient!” McCree laughed, hissing through his teeth as Hanzo tugged on another of his wiry hairs, “hey!” He pouted, craning his neck until he could bump noses with Hanzo. “Be nice to my hairs. You're lucky they haven't all fallen out, but that doesn't mean you can go encouraging 'em to.” He stole a quick peck from Hanzo's lips before drawing back, resting his head in the sheets beside his lover with a sigh and closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the heaviness of Hanzo's hand over his heart, feeling like it was anchoring him down like a weight tied to the string of a balloon. “You think... day after tomorrow... we could take the bullet train to lake Ashi and see the mountain? I know I ain't fit to go up it, but I'd like to see it from across the lake if it ain't too cloudy.”

Hanzo huffed into their kiss but the smile stuck, “You're lucky I don't mind so much _fur_ .” Hanzo teased while he carefully shifted his hips to get the ache of their angle to ease. He burrowed his cheek to the sheets as he rolled the request into plans. “Of course. I'm in no shape to climb that either. Even in my youth it was a miserable affair.” An indignant sniff at the memory of boardwalks and slipping into the wetlands it was preventing one from to begin with. It'd left him winded and aching just thinking of it. “We can take the gondola up... I believe it'll have its snowy peak still. We'll all be matching.” A hope for another day. The will to keep going. A small light he was willing to chase. Anything that kept him going. “It'll be a perfect way to relax after the festivities.”

“Oh uh...” Jesse gave him an appreciative but apologetic look, “I was thinking we might skip the trip up. It's not so much the walking I'm worried about as it is the altitude.” The apologetic look nearly turned to one of regret before he managed to avert his eyes. “Probably not the best idea to bring the fella who can't breathe up where the air gets thinnest...” He tried to chuckle to make it sound like he wasn't too worried about it but he was a little sad he couldn't indulge Hanzo trip up the snow-capped peak, it would have been a lovely sight he was sure, if only they'd thought to do it a few years earlier.

Hanzo leaned forward and nipped the tip of Jesse's nose before settling back against the bed. “You have to take the gondola up a small ways to see the lakes. It's still low enough for you though. I'm not such a horrible husband to make you do that...” His frown was so deep his brow wrinkled. “I promise to take care of you. I will not repeat my earlier discussion.” He too averted his gaze, chiding himself for feeling so cross for the moment. “Don't you apologize either.” Hanzo returned his sharp gaze on his husband. Even with the crows feet at the corner of his eyes softening the look, it remained a formidable foe in the stakes of arguments.

An apology welled up in Jesse's throat but the razor sharp look his husband gave him made him swallow it with a gulp. “Right... no apologies. Just... whatever this is we've got going for us.” Using the stump of his left arm, Jesse propped himself up and used his right hand to comb Hanzo's hair back with his fingers. It was silky soft as ever, but much more silver than when they'd first met. It had been fascinating to watch his husband grey, because while Jesse greyed out like salt and pepper, kind of evenly and gradually, Hanzo's hair seemed to go in streaks starting from the sides and working its way outwards tress by tress. “Why don't you take off your legs for me, beautiful? I'll put on my hand and see what I can do about your knees.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes at Jesse's restraint, tsking at the use of his own weakness. It lulled him to closed eyes before they snapped open comically. “Ah... I neglected to finish yours.” He stayed flat for a moment longer, embarrassment turning his cheeks a light shade of pink at being forgetful of his task. A thought flickered through his mind of maybe they could both work on the other... Would that be odd? He chuckled at the thought, with everything they'd done through their time together, the only thing odd about it would be the pose. His mind wandered a moment more and he looked to Jesse with a grin. “I'll work on yours if you'll work on mine then. I don't leave jobs half done.”

The bed dipped at the edge as he carefully swung his legs over the edge. It was a hard hit to his pride when he had first taken them off in front of Jesse. It'd made him feel damaged. Inadequate. The cowboy, however, had treated him as an equal. Not to be coddled or spared some pathetic glance. Now he removed them with ease, wobbling as he flopped back on to the bed with a relieved sigh, silently thanking Jesse like he did every time he felt the weights leave him.

“How many years it been since I last heard that from you, darlin'?” Jesse gave him wide and mischievous grin, crawling on his knees and hunching over his husband with a teasing waggle of his brow. He sat back on his ankles with a smug look, passing his palm along Hanzo's thigh and stopping on his knee, giving it a playful squeeze before rubbing his hand and fingers around the knob of his kneecap, almost like he was holding the stick shift of some antique luxury car.

Hanzo's blush darkened at the accusation and he sat up on his elbows with knitted brows. “And just what is tha-Aahh-” However, the argument died on his lips as he tipped his head back in a pleased sigh instead. The jolt of pain melted under the warm grasp of time roughened fingers. “I can still finish a job.” He mumbled low, refusing to look at Jesse in the face. “It's just- you know-” Hanzo's hands flopped onto the bed uselessly for a moment, trying to work through his frustration.

“I ain't sayin' ya can't,” Jesse smirked slipping his fingers around to the underside of Hanzo's knee, feeling the tight sinews underneath his fingertips as he massaged the muscles on either side of the joint. “I was only makin' a dirty joke at ya is all. Figured you'd learn a thing 'er two about American innuendo after all these years but, maybe I was wrong.” Jesse pushed his thumb into the space just under Hanzo's knee, pressing in gentle but deep against the back of the joint. “But sure, partner. I'll touch yours and you can touch mine if you want.” He grinned slyly but focused on one-handedly rubbing his lover's knee. He wouldn't mention how his lover's little gasps were still music to his ears.

“Oh you-” He blew his bangs up and out of his face, gesturing for Jesse to give him one of his legs. “And I thought you would have moved your mind out of the gutter by now.” A sniff wrinkled his nose while he raised his chin pridefully. The curve of Jesse's calves were the first thing he always had to dig his fingers into. The muscle still firm under his touch and tapering into strong, knobbed ankles. The muscles rippled under Jesse's hand, a sensitive spot being dug into. “PFF-” He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the knee-jerk reaction that made him pull his stump away. He'd practically forgotten that spot.

“Mm, still ticklish here I see.” McCree chuckled, sliding his thumb along the underside of Hanzo's knee and eliciting another shiver. When he got a scowl in response, he shook his head and repositioned his hand to what remained of Hanzo's calf, squeezing the corded muscle and letting his fingers trace over old surgical scars. “I ain't gonna torture ya, don't worry, dulzura adorada.” He hunched forward, lifting Hanzo's leg by the calf to press a gentle kiss to his kneecap like a wordless apology for tickling him twice.

It was satisfactory enough of an apology and promise, a pleased smile stretching across pale lips. “I was hoping it would have gone off with old age.” An indignant huff followed as he stretched to reach the toppled lotion bottle, “I have your foot as hostage, don't think I wouldn't tickle you right back.” The heat behind his threat died at the endearment, eyes lowering down as the blush crept lower down his chest. “Washi no bakageta otto.” His lashes lowered as he began to busy himself with adding more lotion to his hands and start working the top of Jesse's well worn feet down to the soles. His knobbed thumbs dug into his heel pressing up and out in a circular motion ending with right under his toes.

Jesse's toes flexed upwards and he groaned as Hanzo's thumbs rolled up along the arch of his foot. “You wouldn't do that to a dying man now would you?” He feigned like he was wounded by the playful threat, abandoning Hanzo's calf to cover his chest with his palm. Batting his eyes at Hanzo, Jesse let his posture relax a little, petting his palm along Hanzo's thigh. “Hey partner, mind giving me a hand here? It's on the nightstand behind you, just toss it here. I need both. My good one's cramping.”

He nipped at Jesse's big toe in warning. “Yes. I would do that. I'm not a merciful man anymore.” There was nothing but a childish grin as he pulled himself back just enough to reach comfortably with both hands to secure the prosthesis. “I'm not going to toss you anything. Especially with cramping.” The weight was familiar against his chest as he cradled it close with one hand to use his other to help scoot him back towards the 'wounded' cowboy. “Allow me?” It was a tentative question as he leaned his thigh against Jesse's to remain upright, eyebrows quirked up in silent request for permission. An old habit that felt comfortable to him between them.

Jesse closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, leaning forward and extending his left arm for Hanzo to get at. He was more than capable of putting the prosthesis on himself after practicing most of his life, but this little act of assistance was something intimate he'd never balk at. When they'd first met they were both a little sensitive about their bodies and the pieces missing, Hanzo especially, but gradually it had become common ground and they had built on it. As Hanzo slid the prosthesis in place, twisted it, and tightened it down, Jesse wiggled the fingers, ensuring the neural link was working. Before Hanzo could get back to what he was doing, Jesse caught his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks darlin'.” He smoothed his metal thumb along Hanzo's bottom lip, pushing the corner up playfully and forcing him to make a half smile. “What did I ever do to deserve having such a sweet young gentleman in my life?”

“Flattery will not earn you brownie points... But it will earn you safety from my assault on your feet.” His words weren't as well put together as he would have liked with Jesse's thumb crooking his mouth open in a smile. “However, you're welcome...” Hanzo resisted the urge to nip too at the metal thumb, pulling back and swiping the back of his hand across his lips to stop the small bit of drool from falling from his lips. However, he kept his eyes locked on his love's eyes before casting them down shyly. “Even if you're making me drool over you.” He quirked a sincere smirk at Jesse before leaning back from him completely to get comfortable again.

“Darlin',” Jesse crooned, covering his heart with his prosthetic hand with an endearing look, “haven't you been drooling over me for almost forty years? Hardly seems like a new development.” He laughed, and narrowly avoided Hanzo's spiteful retribution by cupping his palm under Hanzo's thigh and massaging his knee in both hands.

“It deemed to take a literal route.” Hanzo murmured under groan of gratitude at the attention to his knees again. The cooled metal raised goosebumps up his thigh and along his side. “Right there.” He grunted as Jesse's thumbs dug into the aching joint, pressing into the right of the cap. Hanzo's eyes fluttered close for a moment, basking in the attention for now. “Thank you...” It was quiet and barely heard over the creaking of the bed as Hanzo rested back slowly on his elbows. A look of concentration knitting his brow and quirking his lips.

“You go on and lay all the way back now,” Jesse coaxed as his hands slowly worked their way down from his knee to his calf, pressing his thumbs into tight muscles until he felt them soften up. “Let me be the one takin' care of you tonight, sweetheart. Lord knows you deserve this and more.” His smile was soft, knowing how much Hanzo needed a little extra special treatment, otherwise he'd just let his knees keep going until he was practically limping with stiffness. “I know you ain't much of a fan of letting nobody but me touch your legs but do me a favor and try it some time after I'm gone. Rent yourself a pretty young masseuse and let 'em take the tension out of your legs when I ain't here to.” He knew it was a long shot, that Hanzo would likely balk at the idea of letting anyone, much less a stranger, touch his legs. It was worth a try though. He shifted his weight and gave a little hop, sitting between where Hanzo's calves would have been if they extended further. He shifted his focus to the other leg, starting at the muscle just above the kneecap as he had with the first.

“The only way that will happen is if you instruct me in your will, and if you go changing it so help me Jesse McCree...” The tone was as flat as he was, pressing back against the comfortable sheets and firm mattress. “But I might consider it since you're asking so nicely...” He closed his eyes and allowed his thigh to press against the cowboy's leg in surrender. It was hard to argue when his body just started to simply let go of the stress of the day with the loving fingers coaxing it from him. “You always take care of me, Jess... I take so much.” He barely opens his eyes to slits, looking more like a contented cat than some fierce dragon. Though, even the dragon curled on his arm and thigh had begun to seem just a little comical with his age. The ink dulling around the dragon even after its freshening up.

“I won't obligate you to anything. Just a friendly suggestion, nothing more.” His palms smoothed along Hanzo’s thigh, his prosthesis warming to body temperature as the mechanical joints and internal processors hummed softly under the old steel shell. “If you're worried about 'em lookin' atcha funny, put on your old shootin' uniform with the quiver on your back and all, make a real intimidatin' presence. Tell 'em exactly who you are, and tell 'em who the last man you put in the ground was, and they'll be next if ya aren't completely satisfied.” Jesse smirked, fingers massaging the knots from Hanzo's muscles with slow diligence.

Hanzo laughed suddenly, resting his hands on his stomach and tipping his head back at the thought. “If I went back home it would only be a name to drop. Not the great Jesse McCree of the the Wild West. Oh what was that joke Hana use to say?” He reached out and smoothed a hand on the sheet, the smile turning fond, “You took an arrow to the knee? Was that it?”

“Sounds about right. That's the old slang for popin' the question at least. Fitting I'd bend my knee for a bowman.” McCree's eyes sparkled as he glanced up at Hanzo, wrinkles creasing his face as he smiled wistfully. His palms worked their way down his calf, relaxing the tense muscle with the tips of his fingers and the heels of his palms. “Most everyday folks don't know the real story after you and I joined Overwatch anyway. Let 'em believe whatever they want.”

“I'm happy you were so stubborn about us being a couple. Even more so that we married.” Hanzo tilted his head to look down at Jesse, hand raising with palm turned up to him, “Get up here, gunslinger. I'm going to melt into the sheets if you keep this up for much longer.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, stomach muscles fluttering under a soft spot of pudge with the effort. “Even more so than I am.” He moved over so there'd be more space, maybe make it more enticing for his husband by giving a soft pat beside him. “Maybe I'd like them to believe that we became old men who went traveling and got into inappropriate situations and took _selfies_.” He hated them, but had grown more accustomed to them as he became older, but not what they documented. It wounded his pride that his looks were fading so quickly.

“Who ever thought you'd turn out so sentimental?” Jesse chuckled, giving each of Hanzo's knees a faithful kiss before laying them down in the sheets beside him. He shifted forward, pulling his knees underneath himself and putting his palms out front until he was laying on his belly, cheek resting against Hanzo's tattooed bicep. It wasn't as if he himself wasn't sentimental, but he'd always been a little gentler at heart than Hanzo, or at least that was how Hanzo chose to let people believe. He placed his prosthetic on Hanzo's chest, drumming the heavy fingers against his sternum. “Wanna do the honors?”

“I think your tendencies have bled into mine... Or maybe I'm going senile.” Hanzo pressed a kiss to a patch of salt on his husband's head as he carefully reached around to trace his hands on the latches. “Thank you.” The catches gave with a twist and hiss, taking it slow so he didn't knock the connection and make feedback. “Take my romance to the grave with you. I don't need my reputation of bitter old man to be tarnished.” There was a laugh hidden under the groan of the stretch to put the prosthetic back on the nightstand properly while trying not to jostle Jesse from his comfortable position. A hand came down to brush back thinning hairs from the wrinkled brow, marveling at how soft and light it felt against his fingertips.

“My lips are sealed, partner. I won't tell a soul how much you liked getting old and grey with me, or how you still melt a little when I touch your knees, or how you give me sweet little pet names in your mother tongue, or how much I love hearin' you say 'em.” His lips curled up against Hanzo's tattooed skin, hand patting the bedsheets blindly until it found its partner to hold. “I'm happy I got to see this side of you. Not that I don't fancy the edgy brooding assassin in you, but... I think I like the gentle husband a little better.” He smiled, but his eyes drooped, and gradually he let go of Hanzo's hand in favor of finding a pillow.

A pair of angry fingertips came for an earlobe at the admission, but turned to rubbing the lobe just to enjoy the soft skin there. Surprising to say the least with how often Hanzo had yanked them in reprimand. “You've got me pinned, suītohāto.” His heart shamelessly skipped a beat at being laid out so easily by Jesse. Hanzo squeezed his hand before it was on the hunt for its next victim. Soundlessly the other pillow was tugged down enough for Jesse to nab it. He covered his mouth as another yawn caught in his throat. “For your viewing pleasure only.” The sleepiness that slipped into his voice had him searching for the bedside light switch.

“I'd be a jealous man if anybody else got to see you like this.” Jesse didn't bother trying to cover his yawn, having caught it from Hanzo anyway. It wasn't anything Jesse was worried about; maybe when they'd been a bit younger, but not as much anymore. As the light switched off and Hanzo pulled the sheets up around them, Jesse craned his neck seeking Hanzo's lips with his own in the darkness finding first an eyebrow, then a nose, before finally meeting his mark. They said their 'goodnight's and let things be as they were for the evening.

Hanzo awoke to the sound of the back shoji sliding shut, eyes opening into the darkness of the room feeling as if he'd only just gotten to sleep in spite of his worrying. The clock on the night stand read 3:47AM, and Jesse's arm lay there right where he'd put it.

Old habits always were hard to shake and sleeping light was a blessing disguised as a curse. What unsettled him was the chill sinking in now that his personal space heater had left him. The darkness that'd been lurking in the corners felt like it was at the foot of the bed, tugging at his feet and making it feel as if it had perched upon his chest to press the air up out of his lungs and paralyzingly his limbs. He attempted to take a deep breath in, the creature on his chest only allowing a gasp before forcing it back out. Hanzo closed his eyes, focusing on moving his limbs instead, remembering these attacks when he was younger. He needed to follow Jesse. 'Come on...' He ground his teeth as his body finally was moving up out of the bed and fumbling fingers quickly latching prosthetics.

_Whump._

He clattered to the ground, tripping on their sheets and losing the air he had just gained back. “Damn it!” The curse was a hushed whisper in the shadows. He fumbled back onto his knees with a hiss and grabbed at the shoji's edge sliding it open and peeking his head out instead, waiting for his knees to stop aching.

The sound of the shoji sliding open caught McCree's attention and he lifted his head, looking over his shoulder. He was standing out on the porch, leaning against one of the support beams with a cigar between his withered knuckles. He look for a moment like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before supper, but then he noticed Hanzo on his knees, expression immediately softening.

“Darlin' you don't gotta get outa bed on my account.” He stuffed the cigar between his teeth, quickly making his way to the door and crouching down, offering his hand to his husband. “Yaright, sweetheart? Didja fall?” A look of guilt shadowed his face as he shouldered the door a little further open. “Sorry Hanzo... I didn't mean to wake ya. C'mere.”

“Honestly, you'll never give these up will you?” There was no anger or worry greeting Jesse as Hanzo turned his eyes up to him, only relief at finding him still standing. Well, crouching in front of him. He shooed his hand hand away and took a deep breath in at last. “It's alright. I'm fine. Just found the sheets on my way over. You needn't worry.” He cleared his throat and shifted himself a little closer, taking in the familiar sweet scent. “Before I go back to bed, may I?” Hanzo nods at the cigar, “I'll give it back. I just want to try something. Promise.” He knew it went against everything he's been chiding Jesse about, but why deny him such a simple pleasure when his days were becoming shorter still.

“Lemme help you up and you can have a smoke if you want it.” Jesse beckoned with his fingertips, shifting the cigar between his lips puffing out the corner of his mouth. “You okay? You hurt your knees?” His brows folded together and he shifted on the balls of his feet, sidling in through the door and dropping himself down on his ass, leaning against the shoji. “C'mon. You ain't gotta get up, just roll over and sit with me.” He made room by his side, gesturing with the stump of his left arm for Hanzo to join him.

Hanzo untucked his legs to show he could still move properly, “They're okay. Probably will just bruise.” He scooted closer to the fretting old man, “I've taken worse hits in my day. Now-” Trembling hands cupped Jesse's face smoothing the bristles and scruff of his beard before nodding to the cigar, “This...” He was quiet for a moment, watching the end of the cigar brighten as Jesse took another drag. That's what he'd been waiting for. He leans in to press a kiss on his lover's lips, gently coaxing them open and inhaling all the smoke. His hands traced down Jesse's strong neck to rest at his shoulders while he tipped his head back and blew a smoke ring above them, letting the rest of the smoke curl out of his nose like the breath of a dragon. “Mmm... It doesn't taste what it smells like.” He was glad that the only light they were spared was a peek of moonlight and the embers between them for his features were slightly contorted at the taste left on his tongue.

McCree wheezed, the last trails of smoke huffing from between his lips in surprise. He took the cigar from his lips holding it aside as he coughed weakly into his forearm. “Shit, Hanzo” he hissed between clearing his throat only to cough again. It wasn't as severe as one of his earlier fits, the depressant effects of the smoke calming his lungs, but it was still unsettling as he wheezed. “My heart ain't healthy enough for what you do to it, darlin'.” He cleared his throat and gave Hanzo a soft, apologetic look. “Good to know I've still got a dragon on my hands in you.”

“Sorry. I should have tried it when we were younger.” Hanzo leaned back and glanced at the overhanging roof after he was sure that his husband's wheezing had at least tamed to its usual tempo. He steeled himself so that he could return to the bed and allow Jesse some alone time. He didn't want to crowd him. “I'll allow you to return to your smoke.” He licked his lips and wrinkled his nose. Maybe he'd brush his teeth before bed. After all he did have cowboy toe in there... Bleh. “Just be careful coming to bed again.” He felt for Jesse's jaw again, tilted his head just slightly, and leaned in for a kiss on his cheek instead.

“You can stay up with me if you're worried,” he smiled at the kiss, letting the smoke roll from his lips as he spoke. “I just figured I'd let ya sleep. No sense bothering you. And ya see how well that plan turned out.” Leaning forward and grunting, Jesse hauled himself to his feet, offering his hand to Hanzo again, hoping he'd be alright to stand after such a tumble. “Ex assassin or not, you're gettin' too old to be falling down like that, partner.” He didn't say the rest of the thought, but he couldn't help but think how it would break his heart if by some accident Hanzo beat him to the grave. He was somewhat glad, then, that he was set to go before his husband; Hanzo was strong and could handle the heartbreak, but Jesse was sure it would kill him to have to bury Hanzo.

“Old habits are hard to break. You learn to sleep light for a few years and you learn it for life... Or so my internal clock says.” He laughed softly, taking his hand with a soft 'thank you' and slowly standing, not exerting too much stress on Jesse's arm. “Speaking of don't think I'm going to break. My bones are just fine. I didn't hit my head, and I am not an old lady like from your silly commercials.” He gently rested a hand on Jesse's shoulder, tilting his head up to see his face. “See. I'm not too old.” He took a step and a loud pop from his hip sounded and he looked at his hip betrayed, “That was nothing but a traitor being put in line.” That wasn't something he needed on his list of repairs on his next mileage check.

“Sure, partner.” Jesse returned the kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. “I changed my mind though, why don't you head back to bed. I won't be up much longer.” He looked Hanzo over with skeptical concern, eyes coming to rest on his knees. “At least give them bad boys a rest before we head out tomorrow. I'll rub 'em for you again in the morning if you want. I just...” He looked forlornly at his cigar, licking his lips, craving it exactly like the addiction it was. “Yeah.” Jesse looked apologetic, knowing the damn cigars were what got him here in the first place. It was just a filthy habit he couldn't kick no matter how hard he tried; he'd eventually just given up trying at all.

“I make one strange noise...” Hanzo muttered under his breath, casting his eyes back at the room. “They'll be fine.” He stole one more kiss, “I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Koishitemasu.” He hated how he sounded so stiff, but it was better than disappointment in himself and his age. One last brush of his finger tips against weathered cheeks, a last kiss good night, and Hanzo finally drew away, disappearing into the room's shadows with barely a sound.

The bed was cool on his skin as he stretched back out on the sheets, trying to calm himself enough to sleep after brushing his teeth and freshening up. For a moment he burrowed his face in Jesse's pillow, smiling at the scent found there and ultimately allowing it to curl around his mind and lull him into a light sleep. The morning could wait on them if they were late to rise.

Jesse didn't stay out on the porch much longer, like he promised, only another twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. It was a Cuban after all. They were so easy to come by in Japan and he missed that rich flavor. He didn't finish it; that could have taken hours and he needed sleep more than he needed more tobacco. He stubbed it out, sliding the shoji shut softly behind himself, putting the cigar back in the box with the rest for later. He brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face before climbing into bed, finding Hanzo taking up half his side. He knew Hanzo was awake; he hadn't been _that_ quiet.

“Move over, sugar. Yer hoggin' the whole bed.”

“Buu-buu.”

Hanzo peeked up from the pillow sleepily, shoulders shaking with his ridiculous joke in his half asleep state of delirium. The sheets rustled with him scooting and relinquishing the warm spot he'd created and the heavenly pillow. “Kept the sheets warm for you.” He tugged back the sheet and held it up for him, already burrowing his head in the cool pillow. “'M glad you made it back.” The last had tapered off into some muttered Japanese, but at least it still sounded welcoming.

“Wouldn't miss a night with you for the world.” Jesse climbed in behind Hanzo, looping his arm around Hanzo’s waist and pulling him in flush, burying his face in Hanzo’s cascade of silver locks. “Love you, Hanzo.” They faded out nestled like spoons in the heather grey darkness of the early morning.

It was well into the morning by the time Hanzo awoke to the sound of Jesse coughing into a handkerchief. He'd barely managed to pull it out of the nightstand drawer in time, let alone distance himself from his husband before the fit started. His body shook, and he would have apologized if he could get a usable breath between wet, hacking coughs.

At first he'd thought it was part of the horrible dream he was having. One he hadn't had since Genji's fall at his hands. The dragons were coiling around Jesse this time his screams silent as they began to dig their claws into him while Hanzo begged them to stop. The sound of wet hacks came with splashes of red in blocking his vision. Then he was coming to. The sound had continued and became more violent. Reality sunk in. Hanzo sat up in a calm panic, reaching for his husband's side and a reassuring hand at his back. “Jesse-” The sound wasn't right. This wasn't the rattle and wheeze that seized the cowboy throughout the day. This wasn't even the sharp hack that brought up a spot of blood, this was mouthfuls of it, heavy and thick against the quickly dampening cloth. He rubbed at his back to see if it would soothe the muscles and get them to relax so he could catch his breath, but it seemed like it was still fighting him.

The cough persisted and Hanzo was starting to worry when finally it all seemed to come up dry. The rattle in Jesse's lungs lost its fervor for the time being, and he wadded up the soiled rag with a disgusted look, sliding out of bed with a soft apology. He ducked into the bathroom, clearing his throat into the sink and rinsing his mouth out with a cup of water before emptying the awful contents of the handkerchief down the drain. He brushed his teeth, gargled another cup of water, and hung the cloth to dry before coming back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress on Hanzo's side.

“Sorry... I shouldn't have had that cigar last night.” He had needed it badly though. Any longer without a fix and he would have been shaking for sure. “How are your knees?”

Hanzo had already been putting on the prosthetics and slipping on his undergarments, ready to check up on his husband if he was any longer in the restroom. “My knees are fine.” He was glad the prosthetics were covering his bruises as he assessed Jesse with a once over and a steely gaze at his face. “My main concern is you. Are you okay? That cough... It didn't exactly sound good.” As soon as he said it he wanted to smack his forehead because _obviously he wasn't okay, Hanzo you idiot_. “What do you need me to do to help?” Jesse's hair was brushed from his face by knobbed fingers, though they were softer now to the touch as they eased a crease on his brow.

“Hanzo, darlin', you been with me long enough to know that nothing that comes out of me sounds pleasant.” He chuckled, enjoying the feeling of Hanzo's fingertips carding through his hair and pushing back the sleep-tousled locks. “Alls I need you to do is come have a bath with me.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled and his nose scrunched up with mischievous glee. Baths worked much better for Hanzo since he couldn't get his prosthetics wet, so in his later years, Jesse had become mostly accustomed to using the tub rather than the shower. It wasn't anything to complain about. He got to sit in the warm water with his husband between his legs, allowing him to wash Hanzo's back and sneak the occasional peck on the nape of his neck. What could be better?

“I don't know, you used to croon me a good song here and there. That sounded good out of you. Or some other notes from some more intimate settings.” Hanzo traced the shell of Jesse's ear with his thumb, a fond smile toying at his features. “I suppose I can accommodate that request.” He kisses the the crow's feet – one of the features that he'd come to favor with Jesse's old age – and nosed at his jaw affectionately. It made him laugh how with his age he craved more of Jesse's presence, some even commented that he'd become clingy. He couldn't be damned to care as he urged Jesse up. “Let's get ready for the day.”

“Yes sir!” Jesse all but leaped to his feet. He drew a hot bath in the oversized tub, grateful for the added room and wondering if Hanzo had picked this onsen in particular because of it's accommodations. Jesse washed Hanzo's back and Hanzo washed Jesse's hair. They went through their morning practically hip-to-hip the whole way. Hanzo groomed up and as he was patting his neck and jaw with aftershave, Jesse snaked an arm around his waist, pressing a teasing kiss to the side of his throat. “Love the way that smells on you. It's my favorite of all.”

“I have to make sure I'm at my best for my charming date.” Hanzo's freed hand rested on his husband's as he hummed in a pleased fashion at being showered with such affections. “Thank you for drawing the bath.” His voice was a pleased rumble in his chest as he leaned to press a kiss to the freshly washed mane of peppered locks. He still couldn't believe there were some strands still wanting to hang on to the black they'd darkened into. It suited him far too well. “I'm going to make sure to sweep you off your feet.” Hanzo patted his the arm at his waist and smiled proudly as he finished up. He might have stolen another quick peck to Jesse's crown.

“Careful, there, sweetheart,” Jesse chuckled, straightening up and letting go of Hanzo to pat his gut with his palm. “I'm a bit heavier than I used to be.” That wasn't entirely true, sure he'd exchanged some of his leaner muscle for a little extra chub over the years, but in the past 6 months he'd lost more weight than he had during his entire mentorship under Reyes. That didn't mean he didn't still have a bit of a gut though. “So you wanna pick out which robe I need to wear? You want me in appropriate festival regalia so I don't stick out like such a big sore American thumb, right?”

“Psh, I could still handle you.” The smile there was playful and he gave a quick appraisal to Jesse's body. Liking what he saw, he took his husband's hand and led him out of the suite and back towards the closet tucked into the wall. “With your height and ruggedly good looks, you'll still stick out.” He gave him the warmest smile over his shoulder, before freeing his hand to slide open the door. “I had some dropped in with our measurements before we arrived. As I'm sure you noticed.” The chuckle was relaxed as the gingham fabric was revealed, the undergarments folded neatly at its base on a raised stool so as not to touch the floor. “Anata no fuku ni washi no meiyodesu.” Hanzo got to his knees and bowed humbly before pulling out the first item from the lower stack. “Fundoshi. Underwear essentially. You're going to be completely done up.” He moved with muscle memory, countless mornings in his youth of tying the cloth and wrapping it snug between the clefts of soft cheeks and brought back about the waist. He kissed each hip when he was sure the spiral was tight enough to hold.

“That's uh... mighty liberatin', partner. I worn some interesting undergarments before but nothin' quite so... simple.” He shifted his weight, feeling the fabric between his ass cheeks and hoping nothing slipped while they were out walking. He gave Hanzo a warm look, placing his palm on Hanzo's head and ruffling his hair playfully before smoothing it back again.

“It'll hold you. I made sure.” Hanzo's smile returned as his hair was smoothed out, eyes closing for a moment like a pleased cat. He rose from the ground with a silver cotton hada-juban in tow. “Ah... silly me. Your arm, did you want to wear it today?”

“Whatever you think is best, darlin'. I don't mind letting the old stump air out for a day so long as you don't mind being my left hand.” It was a bit inconvenient to be without his left arm, but there was a kind of faithful intimacy to forgoing it on some occasions. Years ago when their lives were full of danger, he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving it behind, but now that things had quieted down for them it felt safer to let his guard down like that around Hanzo.

“I will always be both for you if need be. You never have to question.” It was settled with a strong nod. “I'll finish clothing you and you may decide from there. They are shorter sleeved for yukata. They'll rest at your wrist.” The silver hada-juban was pulled up and over Jesse's arm and stump, and folded close over his chest; right tucked in and left fold over top of it. Hanzo checked the back of the neck and made sure it was pressed to the nape as he straightened the garment properly. “Always remember: left alive and right to die. Never put the right side over the left... That is reserved for corpses.” He frowned and smoothed the collar again, allowing him to feel Jesse taking a shallow breath before moving on to the yukata. “The same rule applies to this layer as well.” He wrapped it in place like the hada-juban, making sure the panels were even with a sweeping motion of his hand down his legs and prim tugs after he's secured the tie in back. “Now the obi.” He smoothed the brocade red fabric about McCree's waist, lingering a little longer than he'd needed. Enjoying a view he decided. A few more tugs and it was completed. Well except for the socks and shoes of course. “How do you feel about split toed socks again...?”

“I prefer cowboy boots, personally, but I don't mind wearin' socks with my sandals, I'm old enough to get away with it.” He beamed at Hanzo, enjoying the scrutiny with which he was dressed, the way Hanzo poured his concentration into it like it was his duty. He loved the way Hanzo's brow pinched just above the bridge of his nose, it was the same expression he made when he was lining up an important shot with his bow. Time may have faded his color, but Hanzo was every inch the man he'd met almost forty years ago. He shifted in the yukata, feeling a chill between his legs where his bare thighs brushed together. The fabric was light though, and the spring was warm, so he doubted the draft would bother him once he got used to the feeling.

“Sorry to say here they go with them. It isn't just an old man thing.” He laughed softly, entertaining the thought of Jesse wearing cowboy boots with the yukata before picking up the black tabi socks from the small stand. “Let's sit you down.” He ushered him back towards the bed and guided him to sit so that he could safely crouch at his feet and slip on the soft socks, working them between the appropriate toes. “I had them bring in geta too if you wanted to give them a try.” Hanzo silently preened at how put together his husband looked in his home's traditional clothing. It made a vein of regret curl in his heart that maybe they should have visited more often. A summer home here at the very least. Maybe their family wouldn't mind coming with them next time... If there was one. He tipped his head up sharply, registering the sound of Jesse's voice but not the words. “Sorry, I was thinking... What did you say?” He finished putting the socks on him and rose slowly from his position, muscles groaning against the efficiency of the prosthetics.

“Said I appreciate all this trouble you went through for me. I'll give them sandals a try if they ain't too tall.” Jesse's lips twisted to the side in a smug smile. “For one, I don't need to be any taller around here, especially not next to you.” He chuckled, scuffing his knuckles gently along Hanzo's cheek. “And for two, I don't need to be trippin' in high sandals with only one hand to catch myself.” He wasn't quite as confident in his ability to withstand a fall as Hanzo seemed to be. Jesse was enjoying all the pomp and circumstance Hanzo was giving him though; it wasn't their usual ritual, but festivals weren't their usual scene. He only wished there was some aspect of his own culture he could share with Hanzo like this, but nothing he knew quite had the same elegant ritual this did. Maybe some day he'd dress Hanzo in a well-tailored suit.

“Then... Yes. We skip the geta and I'll put flats on you.” He grabbed his wrist and kissed his knuckles as if in reprimand for assaulting his cheek. “Just because I've lost a few centimeters...” He muttered under his breath as he strode back to the closet to pull out setta instead and a small box, “These should do.” The shoes were flat soled with thongs for the toes. “They're more or less your American flip-flop but classier.” He smirked as he slowly knelt again, sliding the shoes on with ease. “You should be okay in these.” A grunt slipped past his lips once he came to standing with the small box gripped in his hand. “Final touch... Bow your head please.” The box was opened to reveal the pattern of his old ribbon but much smaller. “Keep your bangs from your eyes.” He pulled his bangs back gently, smoothing it until he was satisfied with its presentation and tied them back in a low pony tail. “Stylish.”

“I love the way you pull out all the stops, darlin',” Jesse mused, lips curling up as he slowly stood, slipping his arm around Hanzo's waist and leaning down to press an amorous kiss to his husband's lips. He grinned as he leaned back, giving Hanzo an enraptured look, splaying his fingers across Hanzo's back and sliding his palm up from the cusp of his hips all the way up to his shoulders. “I fancy myself a right proper samurai in this getup. You done good by me, Hanzo. Always have.”

The compliments and reward made his scalp down to his chest a blotchy pink, drawing forward a smile that made his eyes crinkle and narrow. “The handsomest of samurai in all of Japan.” His heart fluttered against his rib cage, begging to be free from its prison. A satisfied sigh rushed through his nose after a moment of comfortable silence passed between them, savoring their presences against each other. “I will always pride myself when it comes to you. Now, before I mess up your outfit with the need to shower you in kisses, allow me to get dressed.” He rested his palms flat against his husband's chest again, standing on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. “Go look yourself over.” He nodded to the bathroom where the full length mirror tucked itself into the corner of the room. Though he was reluctant to let him go.

“I'd much rather look you over,” Jesse drawled, taking a couple steps back as Hanzo turned back towards the wardrobe. “I love the way you look no matter what you're wearin', but you make a yukata look drop-dead gorgeous.” He gave Hanzo a sheepish look, expecting chiding reprimand, expecting Hanzo to click his tongue at him and shake his head and call him a fool cowboy. It was always endearing when he did.

Hanzo shook his head and instead offered him a beaming smile, “Together we make quite the pair then.” It wasn't his usual nature to be so amiable to his husband's cheesy remarks, but the blush had him a little addle-brained. “You're making me worried with the amount of honey coming from those lips of yours.” He smoothed on his own yukata rather quickly, with less pomp and circumstance than Jesse's, but it still looks crisp and presentable. It was a dark navy blue with the inside of the fabric checkered, with an obi that matched Jesse's secured about his waist.

“Sorry darlin',” Jesse's wiry brows folded together in a look of concern, “didn't mean to make you feel worried you're just... doin' so much for me today. I feel humbled by it.” He put his hand over his heart and sighed, closing his eyes. “I know you're trying to make things fun and exciting and special for me. I just don't know how else to express my gratitude, Hanzo.” He blinked, slipping his right hand along the red and black fabric folded neatly across his chest, trying to crack a convincing smile. “Besides, I've always been a flirt, ain't I?”

Hanzo allowed him to ramble on as he watched him, trying to figure out if the front desk woman would take a picture of them together. “I figured you were just buttering me up before we got to the festival.” Hanzo hummed coming up to his husband with sure steps and a longer ribbon in his hands. This one deep crimson and golds, sentimental to a fault. He made not a noise as he leaned to steal a kiss while Jesse's eyes were closed. “You express it more than enough in your posture. You may not think it's enough, but to me it speaks volumes.” Another gentle kiss was placed on parted lips. “The look on your face was worth a million and one gratitudes after all.” He stepped back to do up his own hair. The usual ponytail was bowed into a tight bun and had to be retied three times before it was satisfactory. “Rest easy, Jesse, don't worry so much.” Hanzo chortled. “It still feels strange being the one to say that.” Perhaps it was because he was in his element that he felt at ease. Well, not too much. He dug in the night stand, sliding out something thinner than a fan and tucked it into his sleeve, along with his wallet, room key, and phone.

“Sorry partner, but it's hard to relax when I can feel a breeze on my ass cheeks,” Jesse joked back.

“Oh please. You cannot feel a breeze like that. It must be you ass talking shit behind your back again.” Hanzo had the most serious expression on his features, as if what he hadn't just cracked an awful joke.

Jesse followed Hanzo's example and tucked his own phone and wallet and an extra handkerchief into his left sleeve, seeing as how he wasn't going to be using that arm anyway. It was odd wearing something without any pockets, in fact most of the getup Hanzo had chosen for him felt unconventional on him, but he wouldn't change clothes for the world. When he was situated, he reached out his hand for Hanzo's, giving him a warm smile and looking him up and down.

“You look like a glass of ice tea in the middle of August. Ready to hit the trail darlin'?”

“Let us mosey on.” Hanzo took his husband's hand confidently in his. The smile finally broke his serious demeanor as he guided him out of their room and out of the hotel's grounds at a leisurely pace. “So do you want to go see the dwarf-headed girl? I bet she would love to see you again.” Quietly he fished out the camera he'd tucked in his other sleeve, mindful not to let go of Jesse's hand as they stepped onto the street that was slowly coming to life. The sun was just starting it's descent to the horizon. Perhaps hitting one in the evening by the looks of it.

Jesse wriggled his hand in Hanzo's, trying to get it back so he could have something to cover his face with to hide the flush creeping up from his neck, but Hanzo held his wrist firm. “Let's not and say we did, partner. I don't think I could face that vendor again and live to tell the tail.” He made an exasperated expression as Hanzo gave him a wily smirk. He was just a simple old American man who had butchered some Japanese, he didn't deserve this kind of punishment. “I didn't give you this much grief when you apologized to the flower seller in Dorado  by telling her you was pregnant.”

“But my mistake ended up with a laugh and a sprig of baby's breath... Though the pat to the stomach was about the death of me.” He groaned and sighed heavily through his nose. He was also pretty sure the woman knew English and was just having a high old time giving Jesse and him congratulations on their 'expecting' status. “Alright I'll let it rest.” He fumbled with the camera and pointed it at Jesse to snap a quick picture of his blush. Innocent times that he could cherish in a photo album. “Let me make it up to you?”

“After takin' a picture of my ruddy face you had better plan on makin' it up to me,” he grumbled halfheartedly. He wanted to be grouchy about his embarrassment being digitally immortalized but he just didn't have it in him to stay sour. “Maybe a glass of Hanamizake to start the evening right? Haven't ever tasted it before.” His embarrassment was starting to fade, his cheeks returning to their usual tan as he gave Hanzo's fingers a convincing squeeze in his own.

Hanzo glanced around and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let's get some then. There's a stand near the Sakura Tree court.” He guided Jesse along, dodging excited children dashing through the stands and passing by lovers who only had eyes for one another. All the while Hanzo rubbed the pad of his thumb along each knob of his dear's knuckles, smoothing the lines made from the repeated use, something man made machinery could never replicate. The stand came into view and he couldn't help but lean a little closer to Jesse as the crowd thickened here for the trees. “I wonder if they still sell it in the old gourd flasks. You know like the one I used to tote about on my hip.” He was determined to get them one so they could liberally sip it through the night.

“Here's hopin'” Jesse grinned, and for a moment time turned back and he was holding the hand of the handsome, broad-shouldered man he'd met thirty eight years ago, his strong arms and muscular chest ahead of him as he forded the stream of festival-goers, wine-filled calabash swinging at his hip. As soon as the visage came it was gone, leaving an endearing glow in the pit of his chest. He let himself be reminiscent every now and again, pining after the days of their prime when they'd fought to protect the world back to back. He wouldn't trade the life he'd lived for anything though, except maybe a life when he'd met Hanzo a little sooner.

“Jesse?” Hanzo gently shook his shoulder with his free hand, the other had left Jesse's once they'd arrived at the stand so he could purchase their order, but now held a smaller flask of Hanamizake with two sake glasses looped on string at its corked neck. “You were so far out to space, I thought I might see you turn into a constellation. You're back just in time for a drink, if you're ready that is.” The bottle made a silly noise as he sharply pulled the stopper, grasping the glasses so they wouldn't clatter about.

“Didn't mean to zone out. Just takin' a trip down memory lane and thinkin' about the glory days is all.” He took the glass from Hanzo, holding it level as he poured. At least his hand was still steady; a lifetime of training paid off in little ways. He waited for Hanzo to pour himself a glass as well before lifting to touch the rims of their glasses together. “To however many adventures we can cram into the time we have left. Cheers.”

“To many more. Kanpai.” Hanzo tipped back the glass to inelegantly down the shallow drink as if it were a shot, rather than sip at. The burn of the sake warmed his throat all the way down and settled in a flare in his stomach. “I'm keeping my head for now, so I think one will do it.” He was too old to be getting shitfaced like he and Jesse used to do. His favorite time being when they'd both ended up curled with each other in a safe house floor, too drunk to stand and wearing nothing but their underwear. They had talked about the future they'd wanted and the weird things they had wanted to try. “It's not as strong but still...”

Jesse took his a little slower, having a sip and looking down at the glass, swirling the vaguely rosy drink while he analyzed the flavor. The subtle taste of cherry blossoms was definitely there, a second sip confirmed it. It wasn't like the flavor of the fruit, but a flavor like the smell of the flowers themselves, not really something one expects to taste. “We can take our time. That's what the cork is for, innit?” Jesse smiled, pulling his lips in to lick the sake from them.

“Mmm...” Hanzo was pulled from his thoughts again, having been the one to fall into staring at his husband. He didn't know why after all these years he still found it incredible at how delicate Jesse could be, or how shameful he himself could be in not savoring the taste of such a luxury. Perhaps they had traded too much of themselves to one another.

The square was a little busier than he thought they would be. Maybe he should have checked with his brother – who frequented these festivals more than he had over the years – about a better time. He looked to Jesse again. Time. They didn't have that much to spare. It was clear by the progression... six more months? twenty days? He hadn't a clue. “Why don't we get a picture under the trees?” The lights woven in the branches were starting to warm up for the night, but they were only visible if you were looking for them in the shadows of the boughs. He stepped closer to Jesse's left, looking over the park and to the stalls that surrounded the outer banks of the green belt so as not to ruin the beauty of the real and artificial trees.

“Sounds lovely, darlin',” Jesse chuckled, taking another sip of the warm sake, letting the subtle flavor spread over his tongue and burn pleasingly at the back of his throat. “You lead and I'll follow.” He smiled at Hanzo, admiring the way his yukata fit his figure, his husband blending into the festival scene like he belonged in an old sumi-e.

Up the path a ways was a small torii among the cherry trees which had been roped off for photography, its red posts perfectly spaced for a couple to stand between. Two women worked the venue, one taking the photograph and the other accepting payments and contact information for those who wanted to be sent digital copies. There was a line but it wasn't long, and the pair of them queued up behind younger couples, all decked out in their best robes. Jesse finished off the last of his sake and handed the cup back to Hanzo to be retied with the wine gourd.

Hanzo took the glass back, making sure to teasingly brush their fingers together in a flirty gesture, making the couple who'd queued up behind them chuckle. “It's soothing.” The gourd was fastened securely by the back of his obi with the rest of the cord, he wanted to be presentable for their photos. He wasn't some young roguish archer anymore. His hand returned to idly rub at his right forearm at the memory. The tear still made him flinch to think about.

Their turn came soon enough and he pulled the proper amount from his wallet, exchanging a few pleasantries with the women of the stand. He'd asked them for two different photos and they'd happily obliged, motioning them to get comfortable. Hanzo guided Jesse by his sleeves, smiling like some love-sick teen again as he tucked them on the marker for the perfect center. As they straightened up, Hanzo turned his attention to Jesse instead of the camera, resting a palm on his chest, just over his heart.

“San. Ni. Ichi.” The woman's voice was jovial as the shutter snapped and she waited for the photo to develop out. “ __Daini no pōzu.”

Hanzo leaned up, “They always said the sake tastes sweeter on your love's lips.” And he waited for the second countdown before guiding Jesse into a tender kiss.

Jesse's lips turned up against Hanzo's and he felt warmth spread through him from Hanzo's palm outward as his head tilted just right for their lips to match up. The camera snapped again and the young lady behind it stood up from her view-finder with a cheerful smile. “ __Ā, sore wa yoi monodesu!” She waited a moment for the image to develop, the tiny printer in her coworker's booth printing out their photos, QR patterns for the high-resolution versions printed on the back. She chuckled as she waved the photos to be sure they were dry before handing them over to Hanzo and shaking his hand before sidestepping and shaking Jesse's hand as well.

“Arigatou gozaimasu” Jesse articulated, western accent thick in his words.

“Dōitashimashite.” She giggled and gave them both a wave, chatting to the woman in the booth as she got back behind the camera. “ __Amerikan wa hijō ni teineideari!”

“That was perfect, Jesse.” Hanzo's free hand rested at the small of his husband's back, fingers smoothing at the fabric and warmth just below it. “They said you were very polite.” He patted him gently before returning his hands to the pictures. He opened the small commemorative folder they came in, held in place by paper ribbons on the corners of the pages, and showed Jesse the photos as they walked. Their expressions of adoration were caught perfectly on the page, and the difference in their height made him laugh quietly to himself. It pulled him back to when they were younger men, stealing kisses under the falling petals of the artificial trees in the Shimada compound for the first time. They were lucky at that time not to be caught.

“What would you like to do next?” He cleared his throat and worked to calm his heart's pounding at their antics today. “Would you like to see if we can still shoot at the cork gun games?” He motioned to the booth that had little toy rifles that shot a cork out. The point being to aim at a prize on the wall and if you knocked it you could win it. “I admit it's been awhile.”

“I'm more partial to the food than the games, but I'll watch, or I'll play just as long as you still don't mind bein' my left hand, partner.” His eyes sparkled a bit, turning to look up the stone path through the park lined with vendors and food carts and games as far as could be seen. Most of the games required two hands to hold a bowl or a scoop or a toy gun; he didn't mind giving it a try, but didn't expect much luck. The smells from the stalls, however, were practically seductive; fried fish and octopus and miso ramen, and sweets like jelly, ice cream, and wagashi. Their lunch had been light at best in preparation for the festival food, but already Jesse's belly was nagging to be given something.

“I don't mi-” The growl in protest from Jesse's stomach made the point clear that food was definitely to be first. He tucked the photos away into his sleeve before taking a different route. “Food first then. I can't argue with the creature in your stomach.” He ushered Jesse along towards the food stalls. “Besides one cannot shoot properly without sustenance.” To be honest he was not ready to ever have that fight again. Once was enough for a life time, even if it wasn't between them. Oh he and Winston just about threw fists. Once they were on the path he took his left side again. “What would you like to try first?”

“Something a little heartier than just fried sugar and rice dough,” Jesse mumbled, silently berating his stomach for interrupting their date. “Maybe that grilled fish on a stick? Shioyaki?” He didn't figure on eating supper just yet, but he didn't want to fill up on sweets before he'd eaten something that would stick to his ribs a little better. He squeezed Hanzo's hand as he led Jesse up the crowded path, every puff of savory steam from each food stall more tempting than the last. He licked his lips and cleared his throat to cover up another growl from his stomach.

“Then let's find the vendor we passed earlier. He had some excellent looking mackerel.” Hanzo laced their their fingers together so as not to lose Jesse in the crowds, proud that people were eager to get out of his way when they saw his husband trailing behind him. Not that he was anything to sneeze at with his own broad shoulders. The stand was relatively busy, but it wouldn't be too awful a wait. “Think you can handle a few minutes?” The second growl pulled a returning whine from his own. “... I wonder if _I'll_ be able to last a few minutes.” He leaned against Jesse's side, laughing softly so that only they could hear over the animated chatter of the festival around them.

“Don't worry about me, sweetheart, I'll be okay waiting for you while you get in line. Leave me with another splash of sake though so I've got something to do while I wait.” He gave Hanzo a smile as he obliged, pouring Jesse a half a glass in one of the tiny sake cups and re-sealing the gourd. Before he could slide into the food queue, the two exchanged kisses from one cheek to another. While Hanzo waited in line, Jesse loitered to the side of the road between two of the booths, clearing his throat before taking a sip of his sake. The taste was subtle and the burn was gentle, tickling at the back of his throat. He cleared his throat again, trying to suppress a cough but failed. He set the cup down on the adjacent vendor's table, offering an apologetic wave as he tried to suppress another cough, digging into his sleeve for his handkerchief. He covered his mouth with the red cloth as the rattle in his chest grew stronger and wetter, overhearing someone ask “ __Daijōbudesuka?” something simple enough for him to recognize.

“Watashi wa-” he coughed again, and cleared his throat “genkidesu.” His accent was terrible and he wasn't sure if that was convincing, but it seemed to satisfy whomever had asked. Then he heard the question again in English, looking up to see Hanzo's worried eyes. He waved his left arm dismissively to assuage Hanzo's concern, finding a lull in the fit long enough to answer. “I'm fine, darlin'.” He managed to control the cough for a moment longer before it was back along with the sharp taste of blood. Jesse swallowed, feeling his own pang of worry as the fit started to make his lungs feel sore and tired. Another painful cough produced a mouthful of blood, and then another until finally he couldn't cough because he couldn't breathe. Jesse swallowed hard and tried to gasp only to realize his lungs were already full. His mouth was full of the taste of copper, and he heard someone say something aghast before he shifted forward, fading out for lack of air before he toppled forward.

Hanzo lurched forward to catch Jesse before he met with the earth, falling to the ground with him. There was so much blood. He turned Jesse over quickly and tilted his head to the side to cease the choking. Was it choking? Hanzo's body went into autopilot as people began crowding them as he kept repeating Jesse's name to try to get him to come back while he moved to begin rescue breathing. The voices around him grew louder and he understood the shouts to get an ambulance. He pressed his lips to Jesse's tasting his copper and panicking when another breath only offered more blood for his attempt.

“Jesse. Love. Darling. Shujin.” He felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he became hyper aware of the warmth seeping from Jesse's body, color fading in the shadows of the stalls. “I love you. Please-” He took in a sharp breath, resting Jesse's head on his lap and wiping the blood as it fell from his lips with the corners of his sleeve, “Please pass safely. Don't be a-afraid of the water-” His fingers trembled as they smoothed over the plains of his cheeks that slackened into peace as Hanzo reassured him. “I'll be with you one day, but I promise not too soon like you wanted...”

The tremble took over his body as he felt a sudden weight pass through him, warmth heavy at his cheek, as if Jesse was giving him one last kiss goodbye. The sirens filled his ears as the world suddenly came back into startling clarity. Hands were on him to move him from Jesse's body. He fought briefly, confused by what was happening until he saw the medic checking Jesse's pulse and confirming what he'd felt just moments before their arrival.

Jesse McCree had died.

The ride to the hospital was like a blur, like someone had made an oil painting of it and smeared the canvas with their palm when it hadn't turned out like the artist had planned. Hanzo was silent, the EMTs were silent, the sirens were silent. He'd been offered a towel to wipe the blood from his face and hands, though nobody dared tell Hanzo he looked like a scarlet mess. He held the white cloth between his stained fingers, staring down at it as if it wasn't real, like none of this was real.

The following hours were full of questions and signatures and phone calls. Hanzo hadn't known who to contact first. He dialed blindly from memory and his voice shook when he heard Morrison on the other end of the line. He wrote down all the numbers he could think of on some clipboard he'd been handed. He used his real name. He used Jesse's real name. 'Jeremiah McCree' felt foreign to his hand as he wrote it. He was afraid and confused and felt lost without a familiar hand on his shoulder. Fareeha could clean up the legal mess he was making later. Overwatch owed him that much. Owed them both that much.

He'd been offered a directory, and a counselor had helped him choose a funeral home. He wished they'd made standing plans. He wished he could ask Jesse which one he wanted. Hanzo slept in a chair in the hospital lobby, too distraught to go back to their room at the onsen and too afraid to leave Jesse behind. No one dared to disturb a grieving old man.

He took up residence in a smaller home he'd kept as a safe house tucked in the folds of Hanamura. The Spartan accommodations jarring him from the their usual cluttered living in their home in the states. The only decoration in the home now was the picture taken moments before Jesse's fall. He mentally cursed himself for allowing the photo to be bent while in the hospital.

The first night alone was the hardest. He ate barely anything, the motions there but nothing had flavor or gave him satisfaction. The emptiness still there. The bed sheets were aired in the morning because the smell kept him awake from their storage – stale and cold. It made his heart hurt. He hadn't cried yet he noted as correspondences started coming back. They'd be there within the week. He offered accommodations in the hotel not too far from his home or the funeral home where Jesse waited.

Hanzo's first tears were when he had called for Jesse to come get a bath with him. When he'd gone to look for Jesse in the home and then saw the picture again. He was angry at himself for doing such a foolish thing. Determination had him sitting in the bath and scrubbing but shame and loneliness had him crying on the bathroom floor as he'd slipped over the lip of the tub. He curled up on the floor in his towel for a moment, a third of the man he used to be.

When their children, adopted together after Overwatch, arrived on the third day he was more put together for them. They needed him to be strong for them, but Hanzo was surprised when they took care of him instead. A family being strong for each other.

A week went by, and the day of the wake and viewing were upon them. Everyone had been able to make it, he'd had time to stock up on shitty Hawaiian shirts and shorts for those who hadn't complied, and enough food to feed an army. Which... he technically was. His kimono was bright red with golden coiling flowers on the sleeves and edges of the bottom panels, the only thing black and mourning was the obi at his waist and the position of its tying. He could already see that Angela was about to be forced to change as she walked up the path to the home.

She wore a black dress down below her knees and black stockings and black shoes - the very picture of grief offset only by her shock-white hair. Hanzo stopped her at the door and chided her, they bickered and squabbled over the dress code until she finally gave in to Hanzo’s demand, haughtily clutching the clothes he'd thrust into her arms. By the time the next guests arrived she had changed into the baggy, tropical shirt and khaki Bermuda shorts.

Hanzo greeted Morrison with a hand shake, offering to help push his wheelchair up the ramp though the offer was politely refused. Lena and Lúcio arrived together, wearing bright spring colors as instructed, both embracing Hanzo softly before crossing the threshold. When Genji arrived he nearly lifted his brother in the air with the strength of his hug, while Zenyatta gave him a respectful bow. The late morning trickled on like that, guests filtering in one or two at a time. They were a bit greyer and a bit fewer than when they'd all served together last.

The casket was open for those who wished to pay their respects to a lost comrade and friend, but the focus was on the dining table a room over, chairs surrounding the growing banquet rather than the casket. The flowers were vibrant and the spread was eclectic just as promised, and the glasses were full of champagne and sake and beer. There was a lull on the quiet chatter as everyone was seated, and after a moment of silence Jack fumbled for a paper folded in his breast pocket and lifted his glass.

“Fellow operatives of Overwatch... friends... family. It is never easy to say good bye-” He didn't get any further into his prepared eulogy before Hanzo practically leaped to his feet to interrupt.

“I already told you that unless you wanted to be haunted by him that there would be no eulogy. Speak of something else. A time when you were laughing together or comfortable in each other's space. Even fighting is fine, but in respect to the... deceased's wishes: no eulogy.” Hanzo took the note , careful not to crumple it because he knew Jack had spent time and careful consideration on the piece. Hanzo was barely holding it together as it was and that did not need to be kick started by an older man than he.

Morrison and Hanzo glared at each-other over the table, clearly at a stalemate. There were a few ready to hold back the old war dog and dragon if either of them get into a fight. There's been silent bets going on when it would happen, but that was so long ago many had forgotten who's side they were on.

Genji was poised to grab the collar of his brother's yukata if he didn't take a seat soon. “If it is the deceased's wish not to have one, please respect him and kindly say something else in his honor.” Genji did pull Hanzo down in the end if only to deescalate the situation.

The table was awkwardly silent for what felt like ages, the guests all finding it hard to think of cheerful memories in light of their reason for gathering. It was Satya, surprisingly who was first to break the silence.

“I recall one time when Jesse suggested we exchange left arms for a day just to see what would happen.” Her expression was somber and wary at first, looking down at the prosthesis in question, veiled under the drape of her sari. “I was reluctant. I told him my arm was a delicate instrument, not a big clunky hunk of scrap metal. He'd...” She paused, a smile finally gracing her lips and a chuckle in her voice as she continued. “He'd made such a hurt expression, with a quivering lip and wide eyes, that I relented. He hadn't thought that our arms were different lengths. He looked like such a bizarre creature with an arm and a half on the left, and I looked like a sight with only an elbow and forearm. We... ended up laughing until our sides were sore. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes. I think he got a bit more enjoyment from it than I, but it was one of the funniest things that ever happened to me while a member of Overwatch.”

It took a moment to register the story before Hanzo was cracking a small smile. A stifled laugh came from the other end of the table before long it turned into a down right loud giggle fit. He turned his eyes from Satya to Hana. The mech fighter, now ' _most awesome halmeoni gamer ever_' – a title offered by her subscribers on her ever popular stream – was wiping a tear from her eye as she looked about the table.

“Oh come on, that is one hilarious mental image! Just this little nubby and this super long arm just flailing around!” Hana smiled and leaned forward a bit. “Ok but, this one time Lúcio and I got him hopped up on five kinds of Mountain Dew, then we tried to get him to try and play the new Tekken that'd just come out. We had to cut stream because he started getting frustrated and got up to shake the TV like it had personally offended his family.”

Lúcio grinned. “Boy I thought we were going to have a TV with holes all in it like Swiss cheese!”

There was a chorus of laughs at the story, and as the chuckling died down, Genji put his hands on the table, leaning forward to share his own story.

“One time he farted and tried to blame it on me. I don't even have intestines anymore thanks to this guy!” He playfully elbowed Hanzo, who was too busy laughing near to the point of tears at the mention of such a crass word on such an austere occasion. Hana could barely contain herself and even Jack cracked a smile at that. The laughter hadn't even begun to subside when Lena interjected, covering her mouth full of food and nearly choking with enthusiasm as she pointed an eager finger at Angela.

“Remember the time Angela bought decaf instead of regular coffee?”

“That is absurd!” Angela objected, putting her palms down on the table defensively, rattling a couple champagne glasses in the process. “I did no such thing!”

“You did so!” Lena insisted, leaning forward and putting her weight on the table as she looked Angela in the eye with a giddy grin, her wild grey hair falling in her eyes. “He dumped the coffee grounds in the sink in your lab!” She gestured ecstatically, recalling the morning with fervor. “I remember because he was walking around in his knickers all morning and I had to help you clean the mess!” Laughter bubbled up from the gathered group again, and Aleksandra slapped her palm against her thigh, pointing at Lena with recollection.

“I remember this morning! I remember admiring his ass from down the hall!” Another chorus of laughter followed as she gestured rudely regarding the shape of the dead man's buttocks, even as she shot Hanzo an apologetic glance and shrugged her wide shoulders. “What? He was handsome man! You were very lucky, Hanzo!”

“But I was not the one who bought the coffee!” Angela insisted, leaning forward towards Lena as well, meeting her eyes challengingly. “He only blamed it on me!” Her tone was incensed, like she couldn't begin to believe the accusations that Angela Ziegler, a medical professional, would be capable of replacing regular coffee with decaf. Her righteous indignation only fueled the laughter, growing from a chorus of chuckles to a near howling riot. As folks began to catch their breath, and the laughter lulled, Mei's tiny voice could be heard through the chortles.

“I switched the coffee.”

Lúcio nearly choked, spitting beer into his palm and laughing through his soiled fingers. Hana was in stitches, and Torbjörnj was leaning back in his chair, holding his gut as he laughed aloud, a deep and gnarly sound. Satya was wiping her eyes and trying to keep it together while Angela seemed more offended than ever, which contrasted beautifully with her big tacky Hawaiian shirt.

Hanzo felt as if the weight of Jesse's death was held at bay. He swore he could hear him laughing right along with them, the sound of his laughter full and rich, a little rough from nearly a lifetime of cigars. He could remember it so clearly.

“- Hanzo?”

“Yes, my friend?” He turned to Lena, his laughs winding down and a small smile still lifting his cheeks.

“You married him! You have to have some hilarious stories to share, love!”

“Oh, no,” Hanzo chuckled, putting his hands up dismissively as if to ward her off. “There are far too many to share, we would be here a week if you get me started.” He was interrupted by an enthusiastic clap on the back from Torbjörn, nearly knocking the air from his lungs.

“Come on then. If there are too many then surely you can spare us a few tales.”

“I suppose... but where do I even begin?” Hanzo grew pensive, stroking the gray, fraying hairs on his chin. “Did I ever tell you all of the wrestling incident?”

The stories carried on even as they were filing out the doors. It was a lighter atmosphere even though they would be lowering him soon. They'd return to the funeral home in the morning after a night's rest and Jesse would be finally laid to rest in the new family plot he'd picked tucked in the same graveyard as his own kin who'd disowned him, but it was beautiful and they'd given him a peaceful back corner to do with as he pleased as long as he kept it tidy. It seemed the Shimada name was still going strong in Japan.

When it came to the burial of Jesse's ashes, Hanzo couldn't keep his promise. The tears came without prompting; silent streaks that dripped from his chin as he held the vaulted urn tight to his chest. The motions came back to him from muscle memory from lowering his mother and father into the earth, to lowering their dearest Ana. It left his hands steady and stance firm. The weight was light in his palms with the support of all of his friends and family there to help. He lowered his ash – burned with his favorite cigars that had filled the funeral home's foyer with their spicy aroma – into the earth with the help of their son and daughter. He thanked them silently for being so strong for him.

They waited for him to smooth the first mound of dirt down, and it took him a deep breath and a bow of his head in thanks to begin. There was only the sounds of chirping birds and the rustling of the tree over head, life thriving and paying its respects in the subtle yet annoying way that reminded him that the world still carries on.

  
  


Take my hand one last time  
Don't be sad, love, I'm just fine  
I'll be waiting here for ya  
Under the wisteria  


Take my hand and hold it tight  
So I can't leave you in the night  
Kiss me tender, soft, and sweet  
Don't know when again we'll meet  


Take my hand and keep it close  
And speak to me in gentle prose  
Sit down, darlin', I'll make room  
When the tree is full in bloom  


Take my hand up in your own  
My love for you has only grown  
For kyudo-gis and cowboy boots  
Now put me down below its roots  


Take my hand and help me breathe  
'Til you lay me down beneath  
Those purple flowers up above  
Under the wisteria  


  
  


It had been five years since the earth took back his husband and gave them both new purpose. It'd been three years for the pergola, a swinging bench with a shaded cover, to be raised that rested at the edge of of Jeremiah “Jesse” Shimada-McCree's grave. He’d found it had been a more daunting task to complete now that he was much older, but it was finally completed – despite all the fussing from their children – by his own hand. The young wisteria plant they’d guided and coaxed up along either supporting post was finally laden with blooms and eagerly reached for the top of the swings beam now. The incense was lighted and a cigar from Jesse’s dwindling cache was set in the sand to be lit as well for offering.

“Our little girl had a baby of her own today with a nice gentleman she's been with for three years. Finally settling down I guess. Or as much as one can in Overwatch.” It was always like this, him updating Jesse though he was sure the man already knew. He looked to the space beside left just for him as he sat on the swinging bench. “I hope to see our granddaughter. She's a rowdy one I've heard. A fighter, just like you.”

The burial plot seemed greener today than it had been the last time he'd visited, more inviting as he rocked the white slatted wood. The wisteria even seemed to be in agreeing spirits, showering his feet and Jesse’s grave in lavender petals as the breeze brushed by. “I miss you.” He whispered as he closed his eyes and imagined that charming smile and warm eyes turned to him one last time – a better face to recall than the one that had haunted him in his dreams. Warmth bloomed on his shoulder and cheek like the brush of a familiar hand, startling his eyes open in the hope that he could catch a glimpse of the lingering presence. The sun had come from behind a cloud, a shaft of light hitting his shoulder and the side of his face just right. Slowly his cheeks gave in to wrinkles as a coy smile crept across his lips though tears fell down grooved skin.

“I love you too.”

 


End file.
